How to Have Fun in School
by bearandtheangel
Summary: Boarding school AU focused on everybody's favourite minor characters. Slow moving Will/Nico as the main relationship, but it's questionable. Eventual slash/non-canon swaying/swearing, probably... All the good stuff, really. /non-canon, potential OoC-ness


Fun boarding school AU because the minor characters are royally underrated. Slow moving Will/Nico as a main relationship, but not really. Eventual slash/non-canon pairings/cameos/all the good stuff, really.

**Chapter One: In Which Boys Crush **

On average, there were 182 days in the school year, meaning 182 chances to talk to Nico di Angelo.

As his 12th grade math teacher droned on, Will Solace sat back and pondered this. If, one day, he didn't see Nico, would that count as a missed opportunity? There were, on average, 182 days – so 182 chances. But he didn't have any classes with him (being a year older), and he didn't see him _every_ day.

Did they still count?

Could he forgive his cowardice on those days, simply because he didn't see the kid, and so therefore it wasn't really a missed opportunity? Like, if his teacher wasn't in one day, he could be excused from giving in the homework. If he didn't see Nico, he couldn't really be blamed for not starting a conversation.

Somebody bumped into his side, moving toward the blackboard at the front of the class. Their school was old and redbrick, but not in the manner of an old society club. It was, Will thought, in the least interesting part of New York. It was a boarding school, but it wasn't fashionable to go there, and the school itself wasn't quirky. When his cousins or friends at home asked, he didn't have anything interesting to say about it, for it was just awfully big and awfully uninteresting.

He tapped his pencil on the scratched wooden desk. If Nico stayed over summer or winter or spring break, then there were more than 182 chances to be had.

It was giving him a headache, all this math. His watch, a gift from his father, told him there were only ten minutes left. He tapped on it, bemused once again at the thickness of its band, and looked back to the board, where Annabeth Chase was answering a question, and their teacher was explaining it in her honeyed voice. He looked to his left and saw Jake scribbling something down on a piece of plain paper – something that involved a big heart at the bottom.

Will looked at his watch again, and then leaned over to Jake. "Any reason why you're calling yourself J?"

Jake started but didn't look at him. He folded the paper and slipped it into a pocket of his bag, which was almost overflowing with blueprints. Jake was involved with some kind of extracurricular to do with building and machines and mechanics; their shared room on the third floor was full of the creativity of two insomniacs, from designs to song lyrics.

"So she doesn't recognise my name," Jake deadpanned in a monotonous tone. One thing he never did was lie; at least, he didn't lie to Will. Will didn't give Jake any reason not to trust him. Why shouldn't he tell the truth?

The _she_ in question could have been any girl in 12th grade. There weren't a lot of people in their grade; enough that everybody knew everybody and everything, and enough to fit all of the rooms in the mansions. But Will couldn't think of any girl in their year who Jake, now in his second year at the school, considered as more than just a friend.

Their school didn't have a bell, so as soon as Annabeth had correctly answered the question on the board, their teacher dismissed them. Will swung his bag over his shoulder and leaned against his chair. He said, "So, are we going to slide it under her door or make her friend give it to her?"

In the past they had done both. Jake had once told Will that he had inherited social anxiety from his dad, and that's why he hated him. Of course, Will didn't believe him – and he knew the real reason why Jake hated his father – but it made for an excuse, and Annabeth had suggested writing his feelings down. So he did, and so they had done both – the friend way and the slip-under-door way – and both had been somewhat unsuccessful.

Drew Tanaka had once said there were more than just social issues that Jake had inherited from his father.

The halls of their school were half-brick, quarter-red, quarter-gray. Everywhere Will looked he saw the attempts at modernisation, but eventually they just gave up. The reputation of the school wasn't exactly shining, no thanks to the students. Most didn't have a super scandalous reason for being sent away, but some just were that: literally sent away. The school had garnered a quick reputation of being a Naughty Kids School, or a School for Kids Who Need to Be Controlled.

Now Jake leaned against the wall beside a store closet. "You tell me."

"It depends who her friends are," Will said, and for an odd second, his mind flashed to Nico di Angelo. If he was ever in this situation with Nico, would he slide it under his door, or get one of his friends to give it to him? On that note, who were his friends? Percy, Jason, Hazel… They were people he had seen Nico interact with, but he didn't know about friends…

He needed to stop. Jake was still leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Their small class had filtered out, all going for a coffee break. There weren't many people in the halls.

"That's right," Jake said, in reply to the friend thing. "It does. How about Mitchell and Lacy?"

Will almost choked on his own saliva. "What?"

Jake sighed. "I know – no chance. It was worth a shot, though."

Will didn't want to tell his best friend that he had no chance with Drew Tanaka, but it would only be like saying he no chance fighting a mountain lion with a poster of One Direction. He leaned against the wall, too, the brick digging into his arms. He knew exactly what it was like to not have a chance with the person you liked.

Jake looked at him; one of his eyebrows was raised. "What are you thinking about?"

"Mitchell and Lacy aren't that bad," Will said. "Come on."

…

Mitchell and Lacy were not, in fact, "that bad", but that didn't make them any more approachable. At lunchtime they usually sat with Drew on a table in the centre of the eating area on the front lawn. They ordered the same coffees, the same bagels, the same cakes for desert. Will didn't find any of them intimidating. Drew had never made any sort of bad-spell towards him, and he'd stayed clear of her otherwise.

Jake, on the other hand, had been a part of many Stoll brothers' pranks; many that included Drew. She may not remember his name at first glance, but she knew she hated him. It was as it was.

"Tell me again why I have to give it to them?" Will demanded. "Drew isn't even there!"

"You want them to tell her it's me?"

"She'll find out," Will said, realising how bizarre the whole plan was anyway. It was almost as though Jake was expecting to be turned down – which, of course, wouldn't be stupid. But, on the off chance that Drew said yes, he'd have to talk to her; he'd given her his number. Will wondered what the note said that could possibly make her change her mind about him.

But he didn't look. It wasn't his thing, snooping around. Besides, Jake was his best friend, and he would tell him in due time.

"Yes, but by then I'd have changed her mind," Jake said, and he didn't elaborate yet, so Will didn't say anything. Instead, he checked for the note (the poem, the letter, the song) in his pocket, and headed across the lawn to Mitchell and Lacy.

Drew hadn't arrived yet. Her two accomplices were sitting alone; of course, they had already bought Drew's lunch for her. It was sitting across from them, untouched and unwrapped, while they nibbled on their own food and sipped their caramel creams.

He was halfway across the larger courtyard when he saw him.

Nico, alone, was walking across the stone path in front of the coffee shop, silver chains swinging from his black skinny jeans; they were just visible under the hem of Nico's black t-shirt. Everything about the boy was dark: his clothing, his hair, his mood. He wasn't sulking exactly, but he didn't look thrilled to be where he was.

And then he was gone.

He walked through one of the brick archways back into the main courtyard where most of Will's friends ate their lunch. Of course, at this moment it was all except one.

When he turned around, Jake was staring at him. His expression was a mixture of bemused and irritated: his eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, mouth open. He was staring at Will like he wanted to both hit him and shove him forward.

Will, dazed, looked over to Drew's table – where Drew was now sitting, her back to him. Before he turned back around, he swore he saw Mitchell give him a pitying look.

Before Will had even reached him, Jake was talking to him. He spoke a lot when he was anxious, and his missed opportunity clearly made him anxious. Will looked back over to the brick archway where his own missed chance had just walked away, and he felt a weird pang in his stomach.

"I have a study period next," Will said, as was the norm on Fridays. "I could find them then."

"Don't worry about it," Jake said, defeated, then: "It's only an invitation."

"An invitation?" Will asked before he even realised he had a reply. Of course, an invitation. To the formal dance that was taking place at the start of next month. The start of the school year always started with this quasi-dance; it was paired with potential students – the Guarantees, and the Potentials. There were probably other groups, but for the open evening – an evening where the school was, literally, open – they were the most focused upon.

Will had been a Potential. He hadn't really been a Guarantee; there were other schools, other plans. But of course, this school had ended up winning. He remembered his first open evening, and he remembered the other kids in the school and how intimidating they had been. And then he had moved, and they had met, and he had become another member of the small family.

Will wondered for a moment, studying Jake, gauging what the best thing to say was. Eventually, he said slowly, "I would have loved to see that play out. You better have had a plan."

"I still have a plan," Jake said, his own eyes now on the brick archway, but for a different reason. "We'll just have to go about it another way."

"Another day," Will agreed, as the day was drawing to a close. Later on they would probably hang out with Nyssa and draw and build. Or, rather, Will would write a song in the corner while Jake and Nyssa drew and built. Then, after lights out, he would sleep, and fall into another day, another opportunity.

**A/N **Hello, abrupt ending, my old friend.

(I swear Will could not be any LESS subtle also Jake is chill. So very chill.)


End file.
